If He Were You
by Ceraki
Summary: Ryou is in love with Marik, but how can he save him from his own darker self? Angstshipping, Thiefshipping
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **I'm actually not that into angstshipping, but I wanted to write this. This will probably be a threeshot. Or a twoshot. Or maybe more. (I really haven't planned it that well)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, if I did I would use that power for darkness.**

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><p>Ryou had fallen in love with Marik.<p>

Yes, that same beautiful Egyptian boy who always said what was on his mind. The same boy who could speak of big words like 'freedom' without sounding cliché. The same boy whose body made everyone's head turn. The same boy that let Bakura destroy him.

Ryou knew he could never have him. Marik was a god, fallen to earth by the vile clutches of Ryou's own darker self. Every cut, every bruise… In a way, that was Ryou's fault. Because he was too weak.

No one knew about his love (he could use the word obsession, but that would bring him too close to the same level as _him_). Keeping it from his darker self took all of the small power he wielded, and he knew that if the spirit found out both he and Marik may suffer.

Ryou couldn't really claim to _know_ Marik. His love came from watching the Egyptian buried in Bakura's embrace. It had taken only minutes, seconds even, for him to realize that Marik was unique, and that he deserved all love on earth. Except the kind Bakura gave him.

Marik would never get away, even if Bakura grew tired of him. Bakura would never let anyone steal what was his. Ryou sometimes contemplated if he was the only one who could do anything to help. Maybe if he wasn't such a small coward, Marik would be free.

Maybe.

**zxc**

That morning Ryou woke up in Marik's bed. He understood immediately from the smell. No one quite smelled like Marik; it was as if he had taken the hot sun of Egypt and used it as perfume.

But Marik wasn't in the bedroom with him. And neither was Bakura.

Ryou was always surprised when Bakura left him completely alone. That usually only happened when the darker side of him was planning his next scheme, usually while Ryou was at school.

But now his head was empty. In Marik's apartment. _This could be it_. But where was Marik?

Ryou got up, trying to find something to wear. He found a pair of tight pants lying tossed on the floor. He wasn't sure if they were his or Marik's, but he decided to wear them anyway. Next he put on the familiar blue-and-white striped shirt before starting to explore the apartment. He would have to do without any underwear.

The apartment wasn't much more than the bedroom, just a hallway and a small kitchen. At first glance, it seemed empty of other life, but then Ryou heard something from the bathroom. It sounded like crying.

He knocked on the bathroom door, and it only took a few seconds for Ryou to be let in. He was greeted by the sight of a half-naked Marik who was wiping his face with his hand.

"I wasn't… if you think… just fucking allergic to the… fuck," Marik muttered incomprehensibly.

"Marik… it's me."

That made Marik look up, and despite himself sigh in relief. He sank down on the toilet seat.

"Oh. Hey Ryou."

It was odd seeing Marik without make-up or jewelry, but he was still gorgeous in an unearthly way.

"Were you… I mean, did he…?"

"Some stuff, you don't have to concern yourself with it, not important," Marik laughed half-heartedly.

"He's not here right now, so you know. But I-I don't want to butt in. I know I should mind my own business, but I don't want you to be…" Ryou sunk his gaze to the floor, how could he even think he deserved to look at this bronze-skinned beauty? "I don't want you to be sad because of me."

A few seconds (felt like minutes) of awkward silence commenced. Then Marik spoke.

"That's not how it is. You have nothing to do with this, don't blame yourself."

"But I-"

"No buts. You remember the darker me? I know what it's like for you. I especially know how it is to blame yourself. But the truth is that you don't have much else choice. I'll get through this, don't worry about me. Just remember, it's not your fault," suddenly, Marik started to smile. "After all, if you start harboring guilt, then I just might have to start as well."

Ryou returned the smile. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

They talked for an hour, maybe more. Marik sitting on the toilet seat, Ryou leaning against the sink. They spoke of trivial things, and even joked. Speaking to Marik was easy, easier, easiest. It was like they were meant for each other.

Of course, they weren't allowed to be.

**zxc**

_Marik's pov_

Marik realized too late just how much he enjoyed talking to Ryou. He knew he shouldn't, he knew that it was dangerous. Liking Ryou would be catastrophic.

But Ryou was sweet and gentle, the complete opposite of the dark spirit that borrowed his body. Marik didn't have much experience in relationships, especially not those built on love and trust. But Ryou almost made him want to discover what it was like.

It had never been Marik's plan to end up with Bakura. It had just happened. At first, Marik had been acting like your typical stupid teenager, swooning over Bakura's shocking hotness and making a few moves. (Probably very awkward ones, as Marik had hardly had any contact with people of his own age before he met Bakura, even less romantic interests) Maybe it had been all his darker self, maybe he really never had felt anything for Bakura. He wasn't sure, but blaming it on something actually made him feel a little better.

But after he had defeated his darker side, he hadn't wanted anything to do with Bakura. At all. He just wanted to live a new, normal life in Domino with Yuugi and the others. But Bakura had other plans.

The spirit was insane. He took every 'no' as encouragement, and the only way for Marik to get away mildly unscarred was to fake pain.

It was torment. But he couldn't get away. And some days, he didn't want to. Some days it was all okay. Some days he felt that life with Bakura was simple, not like the complicated clichés that surrounded a normal life.

Most days, he just wanted to die.

But Ryou… he was different. Seeing the body that was usually filled with sadistic hatred smile and ask if he was okay… That was strangely, well, soothing. Just a few minutes of Ryou seemed to make Marik relax and even forget about the pain that Bakura had inflicted.

If Bakura was Ryou, Marik would be happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This took a while, mainly because I had a really hard time chosing what to do in this chapter. Planning fics really aren't my strong side xD**

**It's pretty short, but whatever. Enjoy!**

**Also: This chapter contains some sexual moments, nothing too graphic, but if you're sensitive to that short of thing, well...**

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><p>"I rolled a six."<p>

Marik looked up on his white-haired lover, not having paid much attention to what they were doing.

"Yes?"

"It means you have to tell me something about yourself," Bakura said, a disgusting smile forming on his handsome face. "And if I like what I hear, I may play nice tonight."

What were they playing? Not that it mattered, Bakura always won. Marik wasn't so certain it could even be considered to be a game.

"When I was 14…" Marik could tell him about his unpleasant visits from his other self, but decided against it. He wouldn't let Bakura get that close to him. Never. "I masturbated before my father's altar."

It wasn't true of course, he would never do that. But it didn't matter. He only told Bakura what he wanted to hear.

"I always knew you were the kinky type, my dear," the way Bakura said 'my dear' sounded wrong. It sounded like a monster pretending to have feelings.

Not that Bakura didn't have feelings, because oh, he had them all right. Lustful, angry, hateful feelings. But feelings nontheless.

Marik was the true unemotional one. His feelings had come to revolve around exhaustion, not even caring whether or not he cared. A puppet to be used by this whitehaired devil.

At least that was how it used to be. Because Marik had begun feeling a kind of release, his emotions coming back… Last night, in bed, Marik had even gotten pleasure from the encounter with his (Lover? Boyfriend? Master?). Much like when they first started out, when he had thought that the dangerous nature of Bakura was exiting, when he thought that it was just another change-the-bad-boy kind of relationship. But he didn't want Bakura anymore. He wanted Ryou. Ryou who had begun to come to talk to him after his bedroom "adventures" (As Bakura often refered to their sex life as). Ryou who was so innocent. Ryou who actually managed to look at him like he was human.

He didn't remember the last time someone had done that. (Maybe no one ever had?)

"It's your turn to roll," the white-haired definitely-not-Ryou said, handing him the dice.

It was ice cold, despite having been engulfed in Bakura's warm hand not seconds ago. Not even objects seemed to find warmth in those rough touches.

Marik rolled the dice, the side facing him showing four dots. He looked at the spirit.

"What happens at four?"

Bakura crossed his arm and leaned back, raising his eyebrows.

"What do you think?"

"… I don't know. Tell me."

"Don't demand, that's not your role."

_Of course_.

"I can't do what you want me to unless you tell me."

"It's not about what I want you to, it's about the game. Silly Marik."

That, of course, was not true. Every game they played involved only punishments for Marik and rewards for Bakura. That was just the way they played.

"What does the dice say?"

Bakura stood up and walked over to Marik. He grabbed his collar, pulling him up so their face was at the same level. For a while, Marik had thought that the other would kiss him, but of course that was a foolish notion. Bakura didn't _kiss_. Kissing could be taken as caring. And Bakura definitely didn't _care_, even if he sometimes went as far as telling Marik that he loved him. No, instead Marik was dropped to his knees, knowing what he was to do even before the white-haired spirit pulled his zipper down.

At least it wasn't worse. At least it would only at its worst involve some gagging. At least he could pretend he was doing it for Ryou.

And Ryou pretended the same thing the following night in his sleep. The beautiful features of Marik coming to life in his mind, bodies connecting, whispers of lust and the touch of passion filling the white-haired boy's head. But something was tugging at them, a darkness pulling them apart. They couldn't be together. Not now, not ever. But for a second they were. For a second of imagination, they broke those chains that Ryou's darker half had tied them with. Just a brief second of happiness, however unreal.

He woke with a gasp, feeling something wet between his thighs. He touched it with his hand, feeling the warmth seed. It was the same that had entered Marik's body countless times, and he touched it with the same hand that had attempted to destroy Marik's beautiful face. His entire body were proof of a crime he could never forgive.

Something that felt like rocks assembled in his throat, and he tried to fight back the tears. _He couldn't cry_, he shouldn't be allowed to. He was not the victim. He had to be strong.

_/Ryou/_

Bakura's voice. It took Ryou a few seconds to realize what would happen. A brief moment, and then it was as if all his breath was stolen away.

_/Interesting dream you had there…/_


End file.
